designer jeans, a cream-colored sweater, undergarments, and even shoes laid out on the bed, everything new with tags.
I didn’t want to take anything from this man, but I didn’t want to put my bloody clothes back on, either, and think of what they represented. I’d also make a much easier target in clothes covered in blood. I mean, really, how loud did I want to scream, “Here I am”, as I was trying to flee.
The clothes were better quality than anything I’d ever owned. The jeans alone cost more than my rent for a month. The sweater felt like cashmere and the boots were Italian leather.
After I finished dressing, I slowly opened the bedroom door, walking on tiptoes to avoid making a sound; I made my way across the foyer. His doorman, or whatever he was, was gone. This was just too easy I thought, as I pulled the front door open.
“Can we help you?” There were four wrestler looking men all staring down at me.
“I thought there were five of you guys?”
“Jimmy’s down the hall. Would you like us to get him for you?”
“Nope, just wanted to make sure you weren’t sla cking.”
I shut the door and leaned against it. I wanted to bang my head against the wall, but the headache had just started to subside.
Then I heard a tongue clucking, as Cormac’s doorman came strolling around the corner, shaking his head.
“What?”
“Mr. Hawking is waiting for you in the living room.”
“Let me just run right in there , then. I wouldn’t want to keep my killer waiting.”
As I walked away, I swear I heard him chuckling.
Cormac stood at the bar, his pale blue eyes met my green as I walked into the room. Dressed in the same black slacks, but a new pewter grey shirt, it made me wonder if some of my blood had gotten onto him. He stood with a sheet of paper in his hand.
“You summoned?” I said, as I threw myself onto the couch that wasn’t covered in my blood. I avoid ed looking directly at the one that looked like a crime scene. I’d gotten myself under control, and I didn’t want to chance another breakdown.
“I see you’re faring better?” he asked with a raise of an eyebrow.
“Now that I don’t have someone shooting bullets in my head, yes, I do feel better,” I replied in a calm and controlled voice. “Now, what do you want?”
I saw what I thought was the beginning of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. I couldn’t be sure, but I got the impression I amused him.
“I’m going to let you leave here, but there are conditions that are nonnegotiable.”
“Which are?” There had to be a catch. I was having a hard time believing that he was going to let me just stroll out of there after everything that happened. Then again, maybe he would? Who’d believe I’d been shot in the head five times and was fine? That certainly wasn’t something I wanted to own up to, but if he was willing to kill me for seeing some freak turn into a monster, what had changed?
“You will not speak a word of what happened. I made excuses to your floor manager , Arnold. He won’t ask what happened to you tonight. You will continue to work here and go on with life as usual.” He walked over and laid a piece of paper on the table in front of me, with a fancy pen beside it. “This is a letter of nondisclosure. It also states that you will not leave the Vegas area without giving notice.”
“And that’s it? I sign this, and you let me walk out of here?”
“Yes.” He sat down on the other end of the couch and I could smell the scent of him as he passed me.
This had to be a set up. It was too easy. I scanned the sheet, which was simplistic in its wording and style. It only had two lines. Th e first stated I wouldn’t disclose any of the actions that had occurred in the last twenty-four hours. The second statement explained that I would agree to accept whatever consequences if I did break the contract.
I had nothing to lose and everything to gain at this point. I reached down to sign the paper
I didn’t want to take anything from this man, but I didn’t want to put my bloody clothes back on, either, and think of what they represented. I’d also make a much easier target in clothes covered in blood. I mean, really, how loud did I want to scream, “Here I am”, as I was trying to flee.
The clothes were better quality than anything I’d ever owned. The jeans alone cost more than my rent for a month. The sweater felt like cashmere and the boots were Italian leather.
After I finished dressing, I slowly opened the bedroom door, walking on tiptoes to avoid making a sound; I made my way across the foyer. His doorman, or whatever he was, was gone. This was just too easy I thought, as I pulled the front door open.
“Can we help you?” There were four wrestler looking men all staring down at me.
“I thought there were five of you guys?”
“Jimmy’s down the hall. Would you like us to get him for you?”
“Nope, just wanted to make sure you weren’t sla cking.”
I shut the door and leaned against it. I wanted to bang my head against the wall, but the headache had just started to subside.
Then I heard a tongue clucking, as Cormac’s doorman came strolling around the corner, shaking his head.
“What?”
“Mr. Hawking is waiting for you in the living room.”
“Let me just run right in there , then. I wouldn’t want to keep my killer waiting.”
As I walked away, I swear I heard him chuckling.
Cormac stood at the bar, his pale blue eyes met my green as I walked into the room. Dressed in the same black slacks, but a new pewter grey shirt, it made me wonder if some of my blood had gotten onto him. He stood with a sheet of paper in his hand.
“You summoned?” I said, as I threw myself onto the couch that wasn’t covered in my blood. I avoid ed looking directly at the one that looked like a crime scene. I’d gotten myself under control, and I didn’t want to chance another breakdown.
“I see you’re faring better?” he asked with a raise of an eyebrow.
“Now that I don’t have someone shooting bullets in my head, yes, I do feel better,” I replied in a calm and controlled voice. “Now, what do you want?”
I saw what I thought was the beginning of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. I couldn’t be sure, but I got the impression I amused him.
“I’m going to let you leave here, but there are conditions that are nonnegotiable.”
“Which are?” There had to be a catch. I was having a hard time believing that he was going to let me just stroll out of there after everything that happened. Then again, maybe he would? Who’d believe I’d been shot in the head five times and was fine? That certainly wasn’t something I wanted to own up to, but if he was willing to kill me for seeing some freak turn into a monster, what had changed?
“You will not speak a word of what happened. I made excuses to your floor manager , Arnold. He won’t ask what happened to you tonight. You will continue to work here and go on with life as usual.” He walked over and laid a piece of paper on the table in front of me, with a fancy pen beside it. “This is a letter of nondisclosure. It also states that you will not leave the Vegas area without giving notice.”
“And that’s it? I sign this, and you let me walk out of here?”
“Yes.” He sat down on the other end of the couch and I could smell the scent of him as he passed me.
This had to be a set up. It was too easy. I scanned the sheet, which was simplistic in its wording and style. It only had two lines. Th e first stated I wouldn’t disclose any of the actions that had occurred in the last twenty-four hours. The second statement explained that I would agree to accept whatever consequences if I did break the contract.
I had nothing to lose and everything to gain at this point. I reached down to sign the paper
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